Men Like Us
by hotterhatter2211
Summary: Daryl had lost his brother in Atlanta. In an attempt to find him, he joins a group that call themselves 'The Claimers'. At first he is hesitant to go along with there ways, but in the end decides it is the only way to survive. The apocalypse does bring out the worst in people after all. [WARNING: POSSIBLE TRIGGERS][Rickyl]
1. Prologue

Hello all you lovely people! I have recently gotten a rather large plot bunny roaming in my head. Because of this, I decided to write this fic. I am thinking it will last around 15-20 chapters by the time it is done! I do hope you all enjoy it!

RATING: THERE WILL BE TRIGGERS IN THIS STORY. THIS INCLUDES MENTIONS OF RAPE, BLOOD, AND POSSIBLY MORE.

PAIRING: Daryl/Rick

SETTING: This will take place AFTER season 3 but BEFORE season 4b.

SUMMARY: Daryl had lost his brother in Atlanta. In an attempt to find him he joins a group that call themselves 'The Claimers'. At first he is hesitant to go along with there ways, but in the end decides it is the only way to survive. The apocalypse does bring out the worst in people after all.

* * *

_**Men Like Us**_

**Prologue**

Daryl couldn't say that he enjoyed being with the group. They all had their issues. He just needed a way to survive the world they lived in now. It was his instinct to latch onto someone that appeared to show leadership skills. This is how he ended up with Joe and the Claimers.

It was a rough start to begin with. He had lashed out to everyone in the group. Hell, he was in a fist fight with Len every chance he got. Len even had the audacity to mention his brother at one point. That ended up with Len having a broken nose and a cracked rib.

Still, he continues to journey along with them. It was a way to try and find Merle. In the beginning when shit hit the fan, he had lost sight of his brother. They had been separated in Atlanta, leaving him detached from everyone else. At the time, he didn't have any idea what to do. He tried to figure out where Merle would have run off to.

That was how he met Joe. They encountered each other in a run-in when Daryl had gone into the home of one of Merle's old druggie friends. His "dealer," as Merle would try and argue. He had opened the door, bow raised as to ensure there had been no dead men walking around. His finger had been on the trigger, just when Harley had slammed the door open. It took only a second for him to be surrounded. At first he was ready to fire, only to have Joe gave him a wide grin as if he found him funny. It only took Daryl a second to lower the weapon to the floor.

Daryl had appeared to follow Joe only for the leadership quality he had shown. The man had an aura about him that screamed for people to listen to him. Daryl didn't like to admit it, but it reminded him of his old man. He appeared to care but then other moments he didn't. Daryl didn't mind at first. He had shrugged off the feeling the group gave him of unease. Merle had stuck by worse before all this happened.

The first time they had come along a limited group of survivors, it was a total of 6 people. One kid. Two women. Three men.

Daryl can still remember their faces, the look of sheer horror on each woman and child as the men were stabbed, each by the head of an arrow plunged right through their skulls. Daryl knew his own face probably contorted to the same look when Dan grabbed the kid, stating "claim" as if he were an object to be won. He couldn't hold back his feelings, almost jumping on the man and stabbing him then and there.

Daryl turned his own weapon around, pointing it towards Joe. He remembers screaming till his throat went hoarse. The anger he felt for this group was more than the anger he held toward his own father. He remembers the look of indifference Joe had on his face.

"He marked his claim."

The words would always echo through Daryl's head. He stormed off after that, not being able to rid himself of the cries the kid screamed. His body told him to run from the group, to get away and never come back to their horrors. Yet he knew if he left, he was as good as dead.

So he stayed. The sickness he had felt towards staying with them had caused him to leave on multiple different occasions. If he wasn't trying to survive this, he would have beaten the shit out of all of them. It wasn't just Dan who caused the problems. Billy liked small blond women. Tony enjoyed the spunk of the ones that never gave up fighting. Len also seemed to have his preferences.

Just thinking about it made Daryl want to hurl. The only one that didn't seem to stake claims were Joe. Joe always seemed to be the one that was the head honcho, but didn't feel any sexual drive for any of them. Instead, he enjoyed cutting open the men as if they were carcasses for science students to dissect.

Daryl remembers the first living, breathing person's life he took. They had come across a young girl in the woods. He could already feel the disgust forming in his stomach from the look Dan was giving her. He stepped forward, the words pushing out of his mouth before any of them could say it.

"Claimed."

He hated himself once the words had left his lips. He can hear the others whistling and hollering as if they were proud of him. Instead of focusing on the men, he turns his full attention to the girl. She looked nervous having large men calling out like that.

The sound of her voice had been frantic. She spoke of trying to find her mother. Daryl kneels down next to her. His eyes look at her with guilt as he pulls out his knife. That appears to silence the group behind them. "Ya got a name?" His words were rough and distraught.

It was either he lets the filthy men have her or… Put her down before their hands could get anywhere near her.

"S-Sophia. P-Please mister! I just want my mommy." The kid held tightly to a torn up doll in her hands. Daryl gave her a small broken smile with a shake of his head.

"I am sorry kid. Ya deserve better 'an meetin' us in the woods." He can still remember the look of shock that her eyes had shown as he plunged his knife into her heart. His arms had wrapped around her, waiting for her to completely bleed out as if she were an animal ready for slaughter. His body had been shaking the entire time. He can barely remember laying her down on the ground. He placed a flower, a Cherokee Rose, on her lifeless corpse.

After that, Daryl did the same thing every time he could. His hands were full of blood from the children and women he had killed. It was either him saving them from the horrors of his group, or letting worse happen to them. It had caused more conflict in the group; however none of them went against his words.

Joe had made sure of that. After all, they had their rules. His claims grow in number with each family they found. He would always try and claim the children first. He would always try and show the parents that not everyone were as awful as they thought. His mind starting to go numb at the screams of the innocent people he killed. He would try and save everyone he could. Even if it meant him becoming one of the worst scum left in this world.

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Yay for prologues that last longer then the writer intended it to be! ha. this is just the setting up the background so you know what happened before of course! The next chapter is when stuff actually starts to happen~ ;D

Also, through the fanfic, I will try and post a song I listened to while writing the chapter. As I am very music oriented, I tend to listen to a few when I write.

For this chapter: Bottom of the River by Delta Rae


	2. Make You Suffer

1st Chapter is now up! I really had fun with this one. It is still moving a bit slower than I had planned, but I like build up a lot so... XD

RATING: THERE WILL BE TRIGGERS IN THIS STORY. THIS INCLUDES MENTIONS OF RAPE, BLOOD, AND POSSIBLY MORE.

PAIRING: Daryl/Rick

SETTING: This will take place AFTER season 3 but BEFORE season 4b.

SUMMARY: Daryl had lost his brother in Atlanta. In an attempt to find him he joins a group that call themselves 'The Claimers'. At first he is hesitant to go along with there ways, but in the end decides it is the only way to survive. The apocalypse does bring out the worst in people after all.

* * *

_**Men Like Us**_

_Chapter 1: Make You Suffer_

The group had been traveling for months now. The amount of food they could find dwindling. Even hunts were getting unbearable. Daryl swore he was going to shove an arrow through Len's eye. The man always seemed to always want to piss him off. The others always stand clear when he was on edge. Len seemed to just laugh, ignoring his anger.

"Daryl." Joe calls out to him, motioning to come speak to him. Daryl holds back a curse from behind his lips. Instead he walks forward, getting a pat on the back from Joe. He resists the urge to break his arm in the processes.

"How have you been? You haven't been sitting with the group lately." Joe states as they continue to walk the path, the road leading them through. "You know I don't like that." He adds on as an afterthought.

Daryl knew it was a ploy to get him to feel guilty or something. He ignores the looks from the man, shifting his bow with his strap. "I jus' needed some space. Ya know me an' the others have clashin' ideals." His hands clenching tighter on the strap.

Joe lets out a frustrated sigh, "That shouldn't keep you from talking with them. It didn't stop you before. This all started when that little gi-."

"Don't." Daryl stopped walking as his body stiffened. "Don't mention her. She ain't here no more. It don't matter." His tone turns cold, angered by the man's words.

The man brings a hand up to rub his head, "Fine. I won't mention it. Just eat with us during the next meal." He doesn't give him any room for argument.

Daryl doesn't even respond as his legs propel him forward past the man. He really hates it when people force him to do things. Yet, he couldn't go against Joe. He was one of the few reasons Daryl was still in the group. He may be crazy and an annoyance, but he acted more in control than both his father and Merle. That was a quality that Daryl had grown fond of over the years.

The rest of the walk was silent with only a few mocking comments from Len. It wasn't long until they came along a two-story house. Joe motions for the others to head to the direction of the home. Daryl already takes out his tattered crossbow. He doesn't wait for the others, hearing Billy make a sarcastic comment about a 'lone wolf pack'.

Daryl curses under his breath as he pushes the door open. His bow raises as he pushes the door open. He hears a few creaks behind him telling him the others were following after. Their loud voices carry through the house causing any walkers to come out with their presence. Had he been alone it would have been easier just to go at it alone.

His feet move lightly as he steps onto the stairs. The others could deal with anything else downstairs. The movements cause the steps to creak loudly with each step. He makes it to the first door pushing it open to find a teens room from the looks of it. Posters are plastered along the wall. He lowers his weapon slightly as the stench filters through the room. A decomposing corpse lies on the bed, a gun in one hand. He reaches, out grasping the small glock from the dead teen's hands. The only indication that he felt remorse for the dead was a small frown on his lips. He pushes the gun into his belt loop.

He turns back around, walking to the next door. He does this with every room until he stops at the last one. The men downstairs breaking something, making him turn momentarily, aiming at the stairs. After standing there, hearing a ring of laughter, he rolls his eyes. He turns back towards the final room.

The door opens with a creak, his bow still aimed up in case something happens. His crossbow being held steady in his other hand as he uses his leg to open it the rest of the way.

Nothing.

A window had been opened on one end of the room, a closet next to a desk, and a bed just to the right. He lowers the bow, letting out a sigh of relief. It looked like they weren't going to be having any trouble today.

He goes to exit of the room, only to hear a low squeak. The noise was barely detectable, but Daryl having hunted most of his life caused his eyes to narrow. The wind wouldn't have caused such a noise, making it even more suspicious.

He re-enters the room as his eyes dart to see what could have caused the noise. A small movement catches his attention just under the bed. Dainty, thin fingers were quickly hidden back under the bed. A woman. He grasps his bow, readying it to aim.

He moves to stand right next to the bed. He moves his hand about to reach down before loud footsteps echoed up the stairs.

"Daryl!" Len calls as he walks into the room he stood in. "What the hell are you doing in here. We don't have time just to do nothing."

"I am cleanin' out the house. If ya weren't blind ya would know that." He lowers his crossbow. He couldn't just let the man know about the woman. It would only cause more conflict in the group.

Len gets a smirk as he can already tell he is annoying Daryl. "Well you're takin' too long. The others are already gettin' comfy down stairs."

Daryl glares back at the man, placing his bow on the bed and taking a seat. "I claim in here." He snaps to him. Hoping the woman under the bed wouldn't make any more noises. If she were to even make the smallest sound if would make it so he couldn't try and let her live. "The bed is somethin' I wanna sleep in."

Len in turn raises an eyebrow, "You starting to have a kid fetish now?" The room itself had to have been a teen's room just like the last, with just as many band posters hanging on the walls as the first. "An' here I thought Dan was the one that liked kids."

"Get the fuck out o' here. I told ya, I claimed it." He growls out, chucking a pencil holder that had been on the desk next to the bed. "I don' wanna see your fuckin' ugly face here no more."

The man lets out a grunt in responses, dodging the holder. He looks like he wants to continue to argue, but exits the room, slamming the door shut in the process. Daryl listens to the footsteps heading towards a different room. He releases a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

He stays on the bed silently listening for any of the others would come up. He lets a minute pass, before speaking up. "Ya know. If you're gonna hide, make sure ya don' move around so much. Ya are like an elephant in a china shop." He comments, guessing the woman wouldn't respond. He does hear her let out a noise of fear.

"Yer lucky. I don't seem too keen on doin' nothin' to a woman." He can feel his eyes darken at his memories of the group. "I also don' suggest ya try runnin' away until we leave. Ya get caught, an' I won't be helpin' you no more." He swears this is the most he had spoken in weeks.

He allows silence to fill the room again. He turns on the bed laying down on it completely. A few more minutes pass before the woman speaks up from her hiding place. "What gave me away?" her voice is hoarse, probably from the accelerated heart rate of a large group of men coming in.

Daryl lets out a humorless chuckle, "Yer loud. Movin' around too much made the boards creak." He pauses, "Ta be fair, I have a good sense o' hearin'." He remembers Merle always calling him part bloodhound when they were younger. "Ya gonna come out any time soon?"

The woman crawls out from under the bed. She seems lanky for someone who had survived this long. Her short gray hair contrasting to what he would have expected. Her brow was covered in sweat from the fear of getting caught. When she finally stands to her full height, a knife in her hand, she eyes him. "You going to yell for your buddies downstairs." Her voice sounds accusing.

Daryl lets his eyes roll, not appearing affected by her raised weapon. "Do I look like I am? An' here I jus' helped ya stay hidden from the asshole. Ya should be thankin' me right now."

The woman raises an eyebrow, still giving him a look of distrust. "Thank you." The words were stiff and gave no indication of gratitude. She does manage to keep her voice down, which is nice. At least she wasn't completely stupid.

She looks like she wants to say more, but gets interrupted by a voice downstairs. "Daryl! We got food." A yell up the stairs causes them both to jump.

"Comin'!" He yells back down, never allowing his eyes to trail away from the woman. "The closet is a better place fer hidin'. Can attack if one o' them if they come in too. Gets ya more attack power behind yer swing if ya use a knife." He doesn't say anything else as he stands up, grabbing onto his crossbow, and pushes past the woman towards the door. "Ya run right now you'll cause too much noise. Plus it is getting' late. Ya don' wanna be runnin' in the dark. Stay hidden till mornin' if ya want." And with that the man exits the room.

He walks down the stairs, his mind staying with the woman. She couldn't have survived this long on her own. It was impossible to live without people now. So, there were probably others. He enters the room where the others were. He reaches forward, grabbing one of the cans left over. It appeared the only thing left had been some dog food. He can already hear the snickering coming from Len in the corner. He lets out a scoff already hating the idea of staying with the group to eat. They still managed to piss him off.

He grumbles out before turning around to head back up the stairs. He still had some left over jerky the others didn't know about anyways. "Daryl." A voice commands him to stop. "Remember what we said before." He motions to the seat next to him.

Daryl glares at the ground, but does as the man asked. He sets the can down, having no intentions of eating it either way. He would much rather hunt. He furrows his brow together as his mind jumps back to the woman who appeared to still be upstairs unless she had already snuck out. If she were as smart as he believed she could be, she would have listened to his advice.

"What the hell are you thinking about?" Joe breaks him out of his train of thoughts. "I haven't seen you thinking that hard since I first met you." It was meant as a joke at Daryl's expense.

Daryl just gives him a grunt. "Jus' wonderin' about stuff." He shrugs his shoulders, feeling the eyes of the group crawling on him.

Joe responds with a small nod of his own. "I get it. You always did seem like that kind of man. Don't worry. Those kids probably deserved it. No reason to be thinking anyone is innocent now."

_That kind of man…? _Daryl gets a small look of confusion on his face, but manages to mask it completely. What the hell did Joe mean by that? He wasn't whatever the hell he had insinuated. Daryl just stays silent letting the man speak.

Joe doesn't even seem to realize when Daryl stops listening to his words. Not even thirty minutes had past when He stood up again. "I am headin' to bed." He informs Joe grumbling. He grasps the can of dog food and makes his way up the stairs.

"Don't dwell on it too much!" Joe states again, as if he completely understood Daryl.

Daryl arrives back at the room he had been in. His eyes move around the room to see if the woman was still there. Nothing seemed misplaced. The woman must have ignored his warnings. Whatever. Didn't matter anyway. He lies back on the bed after shutting the door. He places the can of dog food on the desk.

"That dog food any good?" The woman questions in a sarcastic voice. Daryl turns quickly, seeing her not where he thought she would be. Instead she had placed herself just behind his door, sitting there waiting.

He gives her a small grin. "If ya like some shit like tuna."

She returns with a grin of her own. "I have had worse."

* * *

I knoooow. Still no Rick. No worries! He should be coming in either in the next chapter or at the begging of the one after that.

Song: The Devil Within by Digital Daggers


	3. A Soldier On My Own

RATING: THERE WILL BE TRIGGERS IN THIS STORY. THIS INCLUDES MENTIONS OF RAPE, BLOOD, AND POSSIBLY MORE.

PAIRING: Daryl/Rick

SETTING: This will take place AFTER season 3 but BEFORE season 4b.

* * *

_**Men Like Us**_

_Chapter 2: A Soldier On My Own_

Daryl was getting annoyed. The woman he had helped didn't even seem to realize this as she continues to speak. Her idle chatter making him agitated within a very short time. Even his glare didn't seem to stop her words. It had been an hour since he had returned the others downstairs already saying they were going to sleep.

Joe was going to be on watch until Lou got back from scavenging the nearby homes. Lou always had a tendency to go off on his own to find whatever the hell he could. Daryl was sure he was mostly searching for any kind of drugs he could. He had noticed the small prickly markings on the man's arm, making Daryl assume he had at least found something recently.

Daryl would have gone with him just to call him out on it, he instead was babysitting the woman in the room with him.

"Will ya shut the fuck up?!" Daryl finally snaps getting at the end of his rope. He had listened to her drone on long enough.

The woman just gives him a tautly glare back, "I was just trying to strike up conversation."

"I really don' care. Your voice is jus' annoyin' the hell out o' me." Daryl mutters, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. His bow was still at his side much like it always is. She had after all been pestering for him for his name for a good half an hour. She had already stated her name was 'Carol', not that Daryl cared much at all.

"I just… I want understand you." The woman tells him.

Daryl rolls his eyes, "Nothin' much to understand. I ain't gonna tell ya shit now go into the closet an sleep."

Carol sighs, but does stand up making her way over to the closet to stay hidden. "I just want to know the name of the man who is helping me. It is the least I could ask."

The hick tries not to snort back at her words. He wasn't really helping her much. Hell, all he did was keep his mouth shut, which she couldn't seem to do. The words did however make him shift uncomfortably. He never was good with being thanked for what he did. Most of the time, he was cursed at or told to rot in hell for what he did. Not that he didn't disagree with them.

After five minutes of silence, he lets out a sigh. "Daryl."

The woman's head snaps in in surprise having not expected the response. "Well then Daryl, I thank you. Not many people would do what you are doing."

"I ain't doin' nothin'." He shrugs his shoulders, waving off whatever thanks the woman could give him.

"No, you are doing a lot. I don't think you understand how much this helps." Carol insists as if He had to know.

Daryl shakes his head, "Stop yammerin'! I said I ain't doi-"

A call rang out through the house, making Daryl stiffen quickly. A warning to all the others, Daryl give the woman one more dry look before jumping up. He grasps onto his bow and slams the door open. He rushes down the stairs, holding his weapon up ready to attack.

A shot rings out to one side of the house making Daryl turn towards it. His eyes narrowing as he takes careful steps towards the group outside. He only freezes when he feels a gun to the back of his head.

"Lower your weapon." The voice was rough and dark. It was the sound of someone who was full of power and control. The individual must have learned a lot over the years to sneak up on Daryl. He had been silent enough to get past Daryl's hearing. His gaze heated as he lowers the weapon slowly to the ground. He tries to come up with a way to use his knife against him.

There was an audible click of the safety of the gun. A threat in and of it's own. "If you so much as think of turning around, you will get a bullet in your head." The man commands calmly, yet cold as ice. "I am looking for a woman. What did you do to her?"

"I don' know nothin' about a woman." Daryl states back, his own voice showing no form of concern. The gun pushes harder against his head. "Maybe she is dead." He deliberately pushes the man back. "That is where most o' them end up."

The man didn't seem to like that response, already about to push the trigger on his gun. Daryl wouldn't have expected to go out this way, but it wasn't the worst. He still hadn't found Merle however. The idiot had probably gotten himself killed anyways.

"Rick, don't!" Carol's voice echoes down the stairs as she rushes down them. The pressure that had been placed on the trigger quickly released.

"Carol, where the hell were you." The man questions, Daryl can tell he is glancing between the two of them.

"I was going to go back to the trucks, but I got caught upstairs when they came in." Carol explains quickly, pushing the gun away from Daryl's head. It was, however placed back there just as soon. "I would have been caught if it wasn't for Daryl here."

"And who the hell is he?" The words are gruff and slightly confused.

Daryl bites the inside of cheek, "Yer friendly neighborhood Spiderman." He knows the taunt would just agrivate the man further.

"Shut up. I didn't ask you." The man hisses, pushing the man forward slightly with his gun. "Speak again and I won't hesitate."

"Rick, we don't have time for this we have to go before –"

Just as the words were spoken a loud call from outside is heard. The other Claimers making their way to re-enter the home.

"We need to leave now." Carol states as he begins to pull the man… Rick, away. The gun finally away from Daryl's head. Without waiting to see what would happen he uses his quick reflexes to grasp onto his crossbow. He turns aiming it right at the two. The man seems to have the same idea, his gun aimed perfectly still even as he walks towards the back door of the home.

Daryl rests his finger on the trigger. Instead of taking the shot, he just looks right at the man. The man appeared to have grown weary with the past year. A rough, gray beard adoring the individual's face. Daryl would have pulled the trigger if not for the look in the man's eyes. It wasn't the same as the other's who survive. The light blue eyes showing intelligence and drive, reminding Daryl of Joe's own hazel colored ones. He had a dark edge, ready to do what was necessary.

This man was a leader. Daryl would already tell. He should have taken the shot then and there, only he couldn't. The look made the bowman shiver in suppression. He knew if he were that man's enemy, he wouldn't last long at all. Daryl's eyes never leave the gun wielder until they turn off out of the home.

A door slamming open finally brought Daryl out of his daze. His body snapping into motion before he had time to process who had opened the door. Joe enters, his face dark with anger.

"How dare that man." He growls out gruffly. Daryl had never seen the man act in such a way. It makes Daryl cringe as he was reminded of how his own father spoke. "Were packing up boys." He calls out behind him, the others already entering the home. "Were goin' huntin'."

Daryl relaxes finally, turning his bow down. "What the hell was that? Ya tryin' to bring a herd to us?" He questions, noticing the lack of one member of their group. "An' we ain't leavin' without Lou. The crack head is part o' us."

"Lou won't me joining us any longer." Joe speaks up again, "Some son of a bitch killed him. Murdered him. You are right Daryl, we take care of our own. We won't stand for that." The leader of their group spoke with distain. "Tony managed to catch a glimpse of the bastard. We have to follow whatever trial they leave."

Daryl can't help but look through the back door where the two people had left through. He had managed to save the woman, but now they were going to hunt them down? He couldn't help but feel a small tinge of concern. He hadn't felt such a thing since joining the small group.

"Hurry it up, Daryl. Don't make us wait." Len was already done packing all his stuff, and just trying to annoy the bowman.

Daryl glares at him before turning up the stairs, to go grab his stuff. He could maybe help get the group off Carol's and… Rick's tracks.

* * *

Another lovely chapter done and over with~! I already have all the chapters planned out, but hopefully I don't try and put to much in one. I had fun with this chapter. The next one will also be fun to write~!

Song for this chapter: "Iron" by Woodkid


End file.
